


Chemistry

by Zaeli_Echo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Uni!lock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaeli_Echo/pseuds/Zaeli_Echo
Summary: Comments, kudos, and suggestions are appreciated~!





	1. Chapter 1

John Watson was late. As always. It wasn't his fault this time. Some of his Rugby mates had pissed off the coach and sealed his fate. Coach had kept them an extra five minutes, making sure every single one had to deal with the humiliation of busting, windbroke, into their next class. John screeched to a halt right next to the door to his Chemistry II classroom. He stood there a moment, catching his breath, before strolling in through the door, exuding fake confidence with his impeccable posture and faint smug grin.

"Ah, Mr. Watson. I do hope you have a viable excuse for being late." The Chem teacher, Professor Kraimer, had never liked John, and fixed him with a chilly stare as he sauntered over to the open seat by the window.

"I do sir. Coach Roberts kept us late. Couple of team members were acting up." John replied smoothly, eyes flicking down to his watch.

"Well, I hope for your sake that it doesn't happen again." The professor sniffed, before turning to the board. John reached into his bag, pulling out the matte green binder that held his sciences notes and assignments. 'John H. Watson' was written in blue in perfect calligraphy across the front cover. He grinned and reminded himself to thank Harry again.

"To end this unit, I will be assigning you partners. With your partners you will choose a chemical compound to do a slideshow presentation on. You must include its molecular structure, its uses, and some everyday products in which it is present.” John glanced across the room at the portly kid in a hideous tricolored tie. Mike Stamford was a friend of John’s from when they trained in ROTC together.

“Molly Hooper and Alex Regent, Fin Dunwit and Ally Mason, Greg Lestrade and Amy Wilder, Rachel Snyder and Henry Wiggins, Mike Stamford and Devi Myers,” John made a face at his friend. Devi would have been his second choice. She was adventurous and smart, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. Group projects were always more fun when the both parties were down for anything. Mike winked in reply, a smirk on his face. “Anabel Ridsley and Fisk Riley, John Watson and Sherlock holmes.” The professor concluded as John swept his gaze across the room, his eyes settling on a tall lanky shape in the back row. 

Sherlock was infamous throughout the University. Everyone knew about the freak who could read your mind and life story with one look at your face, clothes, and personal possessions. John didn’t believe the stories. He didn’t see a freak. He saw an ordinary kid with dark curls and angular features looking rather bored with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his head resting on the cupboard behind him.

“Now that you have your partner assignments, I am giving you the rest of the period to begin your research.” Kraimer announced, before plopping into his desk chair with a huff and opening the book that had been sitting there. 

“Be careful. He’s dangerous.” Fin muttered as he passed him to drop his notebook on Ally’s desk, startling the blonde.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock had to force himself not to stare - as always - as the short blonde boy sauntered through the door of his Chemistry class.  _ Just ran from Rugby, paused outside in an attempt to look composed and confident instead of panicked and breathless… Admirable attempt, but he’s still flushed in the face and I can hear his heart racing from here. There’s some annoyance in his expression, probably due to the coach keeping him late. Not his fault though, couple players acting up. _ Sherlock’s mental deductions were spot on, John practically took the words right from his brain as he explained to the frustrated professor why he was late.

 

_ Hmm… Rugby player. I bet he looks delicious shirtless.  _ Sherlock’s eyes narrowed hungrily at the thought. He shook his head, clearing his train of thought from that track. He’s followed that one before, and it ended in a fiery crash somewhere past madness. He decided instead to switch the tracks back to the station and listen to what the insufferably dull professor had almost finished saying.

 

“... Mike Stamford and Devi Myers, Anabel Ridsley and Fisk Riley, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock’s mind gave a small yelp but he forced his body to remain calm and composed. He felt a pair of eyes settle on him as he fought to remain still and quiet. He rested his head on the cabinet behind him in an attempt to look uninterested in the events going on in the classroom. He ran through his mind palace, searching for the cupboard that was reserved for mannerisms. 

 

Jerked out of his concentration by steady footsteps, Sherlock opened his eyes a fraction and let his eyes meet John’s. The color of new denim, with an undertone of deep azure around the edges and pupil.  _ Curiosity. Hmm. _ Sherlock wasn’t used to seeing curiosity in the people who looked at him. He usually only saw hatred, confusion, or fear. This might turn interesting. “You’re Sherlock, I presume?” John settled in the chair in front of Sherlock, turning it so that he could face the boy, curiosity still etched into his features.  _ Bright, alert eyes, neutral expression, some expectation in his posture, leaning forward slightly. _ Sherlock took in the picture in front of him as he opened his eyes fully and corrected his position, crossing his ankles under his seat and sitting up, generally de-slouching himself. It wasn’t good for his back to slouch anyway.

 

“No, I’m his brother Mycroft.” Sherlock deadpanned, hoping to give off a relaxed atmosphere with his sarcasm. Had to try not to scare this one off.  _ Either way, I’m not sure I could if I tried. Resilient and confident. _ Sherlock examined his fingernails in mock pomposity, enticing a laugh from the Rugby player.  _ Damn he’s got a nice laugh, well, just a nice voice in general. _

 

“Well, not-Sherlock. Any ideas on what we could focus this on?” John had opened his binder and flipped to the chemistry section, click-pen laying on the paper. 

 

_ Hmm… Expecting me to take charge. Damn right I will. No! Focus. Chemical compounds. Something impressive… Cinnamidopropyltrimonium Chloride? No, not that impressive. He’ll think you’re just showing off. Benzophenone-4? Yes! Good!  _ “Benzophenone-4.” Sherlock gave the smallest of grins at John’s shocked expression. “I would have said Cinnamidopropyltrimonium Chloride, but I don’t think you would have been able to handle that one.”

 

“Ho-how the  _ hell _ do you remember how to pronounce that?”

 

_ Don’t show off. _ “Practice.” Sherlock lied. He could puzzle out most pronunciation on a moment’s glance at a word. 

 

“And how many letters is that?” John still looked utterly stunned.  _ Just you wait. _ Sherlock snarled inwardly and did his best to reign in his currently-distracted mind.

 

“Hmm… 24.”  _ Brilliant! _ Sherlock was having trouble not busting a huge grin at the look on his partner’s face.

 

John cleared his throat, glancing at his watch. “Okay, so we’re gonna do the Benza-ben… Oh sod it, the other thing?”

 

“Benzophenone-4? Yes.” Sherlock jotted it down in his own notebook, decorated with doodles from when he was supposed to look like he was taking notes.

 

“Is that runic?”  _ Oh. _ Sherlock glanced down at his notebook and pinpointed what John was referring  to.  _ Stupid! He recognized it. Can he read runic? Shitshitshitshitshit…  _

 

“Hm? Oh, yes. Why?” Sherlock attempted to sound bored, but couldn’t tell if he’d removed all undertones of panic from his voice.

 

“No reason.” _Lame excuse. Can he read it? Did he read it? I bet he read it. No, he looks rather puzzled. He can’t read it? Okay, relax, he can’t read it._ Sherlock was trying to quiet his mental turmoil when John pulled out a sleek black laptop. **ASUS** glowed white against the reflective surface. _Good. He’s not lingering on it._

 

Sherlock pinched himself hard, sobering, and reached for his own laptop - a small Chromebook in a blue two-piece cover.  _ Same color as his eyes. _ Sherlock pinched himself again.

 

“Do you have a gmail?” John asked as Sherlock booted up his laptop

 

“Yes. It’s  [ _ sherholmes124@gmail.com _ ](mailto:sherholmes124@gmail.com) .” Sherlock mumbled, busy disabling the spyware that had popped up. Mycroft may be clever, but he wasn’t the best at hiding things.

 

“‘Kay, thanks.” John tapped the address in and hit another key.  _ Probably enter. _ An email popped up not five seconds later.

 

“Alright! Pack up, class is dismissed.” Professor Kraimer announced.

  
Sherlock snapped his computer shut and stuffed that and his Notebook into his messenger bag, sweeping out of the room.  _ This could go very well indeed. _ He allowed himself a small smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, and suggestions are appreciated~!


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, John! John! Wait up mate!” John slowed his step on the way to his dorm, waiting for Greg to catch up.

 

“What’s up Greg?” John asked as his friend caught up, breathing heavily.

 

“Heard you got paired with that Sherlock bloke. How do you like him?” Greg huffed, still trying to catch his breath.

 

“Odd, sarcastic, rather smart. Why?” John wasn’t all that focused on the conversation itself, his mind was on the object of his conversation instead.

 

“Just curious. He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

 

“Not a whole lot, and most of what comes out is either snark or pure intellect. Interesting conversation-wise.”

 

“Ah. I’ll see you tomorrow mate. I’m gonna go turn in. The girlfriend gets needy.” He grinned suggestively.

 

“Ugh! Too much info, Gregory! You go snorkel your girl all you want, but don’t tell me about it please!” John gasped, appalled and joking at the same time.

 

“Oh, right, right. You’re the gaybie.” Greg teased.

 

“Not Gay, Bi. You should know this by now.” John laughed over his shoulder as his friend sauntered toward the west dorm building.

 

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow gaybie.” Greg saluted as he disappeared through the door to his dorm building. John rolled his eyes.

 

_ I had better get working on the project. Don’t want to look like a slacker.  _ John found himself picking up the pace as he returned to his dorm. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

John plopped himself down on his bed and logged into his computer. Instantly his email pinged, notifying him of a new message. He clicked into it.

 

18:45:03 Message received from  [ _ sherholmes124@gmail.com _ ](mailto:sherholmes124@gmail.com)

_ Mind to meet up to work on this? I think better when I speak out loud, and Billy just draws attention. _

  
  
  


John furrowed his brows, confused, and typed up a reply.

 

18:57:24 Message sent from [_kingwatson09@gmail.com_](mailto:kingwatson09@gmail.com)

_ Who’s Billy? I’d be glad to meet up. Speedy’s diner @ 19:30? _

 

The laptop pinged again.

 

18:58:15 Message received from  [ _ sherholmes124@gmail.com _ ](mailto:sherholmes124@gmail.com)

_ Skull. Friend of mine. Well… I say friend… *laughs*. I’ll see you @ Speedy’s in 32. _

  
  


John shook his head, chuckling. “Of course it’s a skull.” He muttered, still laughing, as he shut his laptop and went to take a shower

  
  


**+** **+** **+**

  
  


Sherlock rifled through his closet, looking for a subtly flattering outfit.  _ No, no, no, no, definitely not, maybe, nope, nope, yes! _ He pulled out a dark purple three-quarter-sleeve silk button up.  _ Perfect. _ He slipped it on, buttoning it and searching for his favorite pair of black slacks. He found and donned them quickly, tucking in the shirt-tails and lacing up his mid-shin-length combats. He admired the outfit in the mirror. The well-fitted shirt showed off his slim figure, just showing hints of the tight abs that lay beneath. The color complimented his eyes, making them appear a shocking blue-green, and made his skin look an inviting smooth porcelain. He checked his watch, dark against his pale wrist.  _ 7:15 _ the hands read. “Wish me luck.” He muttered to the empty room. His mobile pinged after a second or two.

 

 _Good luck._ _\- MH_

 

Sherlock sighed, typing out a message.

 

 _Stop bugging my dorm. It’s rude. I always can figure out where you hide them anyway. Why do you even bother?_ _\- SH_

 

Ping.

 

 _I like to know when my little brother is arranging dates with people he’s supposed to be studying with._ _\- MH_

 

 _It’s not a date._ _\- SH_

 

 _Sure. Good luck, brother mine._ _\- MH_

 

Sherlock examined himself in the mirror one last time, fluffed his curls, and strode out, flicking Mycroft’s bug an obscene gesture as he closed the door.

  
  


+ + +

  
  


John carded his fingers through his hair, foot tapping nervously as he waited outside the diner. He had gone for an outfit simple and modest at first glance, but on closer inspection, his broad powerful shoulders were barely contained in the light heather-grey tee. He was wearing loosely fitted jeans and brown leather loafers. Nothing particularly fancy or flashy. 

 

“You were facing the wrong way.” A voice rumbled behind him.

 

John gave a small jolt of surprise, turning around to face his project partner. “Oh! You startled me. Do you not live on campus?”

 

“No. I live in an off-campus flat funded by my scholarship.” Sherlock gestured at the door. “Shall we go in?”

 

“Of course, sorry.” John mumbled a quick apology and opened the door, the bells on the handle jingling mildly.

 

“It’s no worry.” Sherlock let himself through the door as John held it for him. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s no worry.” Sherlock chuckled at the obviously intended echo.

 

“Let’s get started, shall we?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that one was short. I'm new to this website, so I've yet to figure out many of the mechanics and such. I'll have more up as soon as I find the time~!


End file.
